


Dark Consumption

by Dark Tales (Weltenweber)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Arts, Dark Harry, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Durmstrang Student Harry Potter, M/M, On Hiatus, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weltenweber/pseuds/Dark%20Tales
Summary: Do you believe in destiny?Sometimes it's only the smallest of things that changes your fate.For Harry Potter the path to destruction started with a burnt chicken roast.Tom Marvolo Riddle could honestly say that he had never met someone more fascinating than Harry James Potter.Beware the beloved of Darkness.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 69
Kudos: 575





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> \---  
> Harry is going to be extremely mature for an eleven-year-old and many of his acts can be seen as excessive. There _is_ a reason for that. But it will only be revealed much later. Because plot. *xD* So please have patience. ;-)
> 
> \---  
> Warnings and tags may change.  
> 

As far as Harry could remember, darkness had always been his only companion. It was his friend, his protector, his _salvation_.

It was there when his family rejected him. Because he was not _normal_.

It was there when the adults dismissed him. Because he was a _liar_.

It was there when the children shunned him. Because he was _dangerous_.

And it never judged. It was just there. Hiding him, sheltering him.

Like his guardians never did.

Like the adults never bothered too.

So Harry loved the darkness.

And the darkness loved him.

# Dark Consumption

_Everything started on a completely average sunny summer day. Looking back, there was not a single sign that could have foreshadowed the things to come. There was no rain, no storm, nothing of any significance. But perhaps that was a sign in itself, because darkness is meant to be quiet._

_For little Harry Potter this day marked the beginning of something bigger. And like all big things, it started very small. It started with a burnt chicken roast._

-

Harry's ears were ringing. His uncles bellowed yelling was almost drowned out by his aunt's grating shriek. It sounded like a sailor bawling a drinking song over a discordant violin.

The five year old boy was angry. They had no reason to yell at him at all. He had done exactly what he had been told to do and yet they were yelling as if he had done something wrong.

It was not his fault that his _aunt_ had set the wrong time. It was not his fault that his _cousin_ had decided to play with the thermostat.

And yet here he was. Being persecuted for something he had not done yet again.

He was getting sick of it. He was getting sick of being wrongly accused. Sick of being ordered around and treated like he was _less_ then those pathetic _things_ he had to call his relatives.

His uncles thick, meaty hands buried themselves into his hair and yanked harshly. Harry hissed quietly in pain.

Vernon Dursley took a menacing step forward, looming over the young boy and staring down at him with an angry, distorted face. " ** **We took you in out of the goodness of our hearts, feed you and you ...**** ** **you**** ** _ **dare**_** ** **sabotage us!"****

Harry felt a sudden surge of cold, unadulterated hatred. He was so done with this. Done with having to play the scapegoat. Done with being manhandled. Done with being _disrespected_.

He was ****DONE****.

He stared furiously at his uncle.

He wanted him to hurt. To hurt like he did. To feel pain like he did. He wanted him to burn. Burn until he was as charred as the roast.

He wanted him to **_**BURN**_**!

Something inside him snapped. It was like a floodgate opening up and he felt the power flooding his veins.

His aunt screamed, a shrill, ringing sound drenched with terror. Dudley stared frozen and wide-eyed as his fathers hair was suddenly engulfed in scorching flames.

Harry's lips settled into a cruel, satisfied smile as he watched his uncle fleeing the room, _crying_ in a mixture of pain, fear and anger as his hair was _devoured_ by a fiery yellow light.

-

Somewhere deep below the Streets of London a glass orb glowed and shattered. Destiny despaired as her plans become undone and her chosen champion remade his own path. 

Only a silent watcher smiled in fondness, as a green-eyed child called vengeance on his tormentors and reality continued to warp itself.

_-_

_And so the years passed by. Years filled with pain, blood and despair - until the very day the young child received an unexpected letter that heralded the next step of his journey._

_-_

He watched them, dispassionate and detached as they went about their daily chores, heads lowered and shoulders dropped; nothing more then a bunch of rodents in his eyes.

Petunia Dursley was standing in front of the kitchen counter, diligently preparing breakfast. The years had not been kind to her. Her thin, haggard frame looked brittle and ready to topple over at the slightest breeze like a dead tree.

Dudley had sunken down into the worn couch furthest from him. He had lost lots of weight, partly because of his many chores, partly because Harry had taken over the food distribution and had blatantly refused his cousin any snacks or sweets.

Dudley had been deliciously horrified when he had found out that his diet would only consist of salad and watery porridge.

His uncles temper had become rather subdued. He still acted up sometimes, but most of the time a warning glare was enough to quell rising bravado and if not, well...Harry had enough other ways to _discourage_ any thoughts of rebellion.

Fire usually did the trick. His uncles hair had still not grown back. And it never would. The skin had been damaged too badly. So Vernon was forced to wear a very cheap blonde wig to hide his bald - and scarred head.

Harry's lips twitched in mild amusement.

Any rage and hatred he might have harbored was long gone. All that remained was a deep revulsion and the firm opinion that they were not even worth the time it took to torture them. They were just too pathetic to bother with.

The distinct clattering of the letter drop interrupted his musings. The post had arrived.

"Dudley.", he stated calmly.

His cousin, well trained enough to know what he wanted, jerked up and practically ran off to do as he was told. He was back again in less then a minute, a small stack of letters in his hands and gingerly placed them next to Harry.

"Good boy.", Harry praised dryly and put his tea down to peruse the letters.

They consisted mostly of bills and a scrawled postcard from Vernon's sister Marge, sending greetings from Majorca. Harry shook his head in distaste at the atrocious penmanship.

He put the card down carelessly and paused in surprise.

Someone had written him a letter.

He turned the heavy envelope in his hands and peered curiously at the embossed seal. A lion, a raven, a snake and a badger surrounding the letter H. What an odd combination.

Harry was intrigued. He broke the seal with great care and pulled the letter out, only to realize that he held a piece of _parchment_ in his hands. Now that was definitely uncommon.

His eyes racked over the letter - are this _quill_ strokes? - and slowly a dark shadow passed over his face.

His power surged, always eager to answer his emotions and raged through the room like a cold arctic storm, leaving a thin white layer on the immaculate window. 

Dudley buried himself deeper into the couch as biting coldness began to prick him with icy needles.

And then Harry spoke, his voice frigid and yet soft like a melting snowflake.

" ** _ **Petunia**_** ** _ **.**_** ** _ **Come here**_**."

His aunt stiffened, for a breath or two she seemed just as frozen as the glass of orange juice she was holding, then she turned around, tightly pressing the cracked glass against her chest as if it was herself that she tried to protect from breaking apart and approached him slowly, every step watched by the dread-filled stares of her family.

Green death-like eyes hardened in cold fury as the trembling woman took one look at the envelope and paled.

"I think, **_**dear aunt**_** that you have something to tell me."

There was no god to answer Petunias prayers today. Only a demon playing inquisition.

-

Far beyond the mortal plane the silent watcher chuckled as he listened to the pain-filled screams. Red eyes gleamed as they focused on the irate child. " ** **So precious.**** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next chapter:**  
>  A shopping trip takes an unexpected turn and a keyplayer moves.


	2. A Stage Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. I honestly did not think you would like it that much. Thank you! 🥰  
> Because I am really motivated right now, I am posting chapter 2.  
> #3 will probably take a bit longer, but I am aiming for the weekend ^^
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter:** Surrealism

His _talk_ with his aunt had been rather... illuminating. Harry tapped his right index finger against the tabletop in contemplative silence. So he was a wizard. And his parents had not died in car crash, they had been killed in a Wizarding war _._ Now _that_ had been an entire revelation on his own.

But at least he knew now that there were more people out there who could do what he could. Harry did not know what to feel about that. He liked being _special_. But then again...if there were really other people like him, the opportunity to learn more about his powers would be too great to pass up.

His eyes darkened briefly as he remembered that his aunt had _known_ about what he was. And she had actually dared to keep it from him out of sheer spite.

But oh...she would not make the same mistake twice. He would be surprised if she even dared to look at him after what he had done.

Harry smiled coldly.

His gaze fell on his letter and he paused for a moment.

If, no _when_ he went to a boarding school his relatives would be completely unsupervised for the greater part of the year. His absence would lower his influence on them. It was his constant presence that prevented them from acting up.

What if they used the opportunity and attempted to run? What if they _told_ on him? A normal, _mundane_ person would not pose a problem, because they would never believe such a far-fetched story. But there was always the slight, minuscule chance that they could tell a _wizard_. And that would cause problems.

He had no doubt that his treatment of his relatives would be heavily frowned upon - if it was not downright criminal. He could not risk that.

No. He had to find a way to keep them quiet.

Harry picked the letter up again. It was time to pay this Diagon Alley a visit. Perhaps there he would be able to find something to help him.

-

The _Leaky Cauldron's_ appearance wasas inviting as it's name. The building so old and rundown that Harry wondered sardonically if it would be renamed _The Leaky Roof_ anytime soon.

At least the pub looked actually _better_ on the inside - or, he amended dryly, at least cleaner than some of it's patrons.

He made his way over to the barkeeper, deliberately keeping his eyes away from the drunken, raggedly clothed group in the far left corner.

"Good day, sir."

The man stopped in wiping the worn wooden counter and looked up. "Hello lad. Can I help you?"

Harry twisted his lips in a way that imitated a shy soft smile to perfection. "I was wondering if you could open the way to Diagon Alley for me?"

"Ah, off to buy your school supplies?", the barkeeper dried his hand on a frayed towel that looked like it had been used way too often and stepped past the counter.

"Yes, sir.", Harry answered, making sure to sound suitably excited. He did not even have to pretend too much. He _was_ after all quite excited.

"Of course lad.", the man paused for a moment and peered at Harry with narrowed eyes, his gaze lingering for a while over the fringe covering Harry's forehead. "Have I seen you somewhere before?"

"I don't think so.", Harry answered, tone tinged with surprise.

The man hummed thoughtfully. "I could have sworn...oh well, follow me. I'll open the gate for you."

"Thank you sir." Harry followed the barkeeper into the backyard, silently pondering over the man's reaction. Why had he stared at his fringe? He could not have known about his scar...or could he?

-

The alley was filled with cheerful chatter. People were hustling and bustling about and the entire street practically pulsated with life.

Harry's first impression was that wizards were very loud. His second: They had absolutely no fashion sense. He hastily averted his gaze from a bearded middle-aged man who thought that his overly colorful aloha shirt accentuated his kilt quite nicely.

Trying to get this rather disconcerting image out of his head, Harry focused on the gigantic white building in front of him.

Gringotts, the Wizarding bank.

He made his way up the white, marble staircase through the gigantic doors and approached one of those strange creatures standing behind a counter. It reminded him eerily of those orcs he had seen in The Fellowship of the Ring.

"Yes?", the not-orc asked curtly, sharp white teeth glittering in a mockery of a friendly smile.

'Charming.', Harry thought dryly and handed the creature a couple of hundred pound notes. They had been a _gift_ from uncle Vernon to... celebrate his school enrolment. "Please exchange this."

The creature inspected the notes carefully, gave a short nod and handed Harry a heavy coin pouch. "700 Galleons. Do not loose it."

"Of course not.", Harry agreed easily, silently snorting in derision. As if he could actually manage to misplace a bag of solid gold. Putting the pouch away, he left without bothering to say goodbye.

He did not see the creature staring after him, a vacant look in his eyes, as if trying to recall a distant memory.

-

Harry was just leaving his first stop, the Potions store, when he heard it. It was a melody. Haunting and dark. It sounded like blood and tears and sighing voices and reminded him of his early powerless childhood days, and all those dark nights in his cupboard when he had fallen asleep to softly chiming bells and dreamed of being embraced by a faceless dark figure.

It was the same melody he had heard those nights!

Almost unwittingly his feet started to move on their own, carrying him away from the store.

He bumped into a few people as the world around him faded out, but they were nothing more than a small part of a gigantic moving mass and their loudly voiced complaints remained soundless.

He did not know how long he had been walking, but the crowd became thinner and thinner until he finally reached a completely deserted alley.

A shapeless shade dissolved from the shadows as the boy vanished into the dark, light-less street.

" ** _ **Yes.**_** " , it whispered quietly. " ** _ **Follow.**_** "

-

The rational part of Harry's mind told him that this was dangerous. That he should turn around and leave as fast as possible.

But there was another, bigger and more emotional part of him that told him that it was alright. That it was _safe_ to follow the melody.

And he certainly felt safe. The darkness of the alley settling over him like a warm protective blanket and Harry knew with sudden clarity that there was absolutely nothing bad that could happen to him as long as he was here.

The melody was now _everywhere_ , swirling around him like a soft breeze and caressing his cheek as is brushed past his face.

Harry's perception shifted. The alley was gone and he found himself standing in a translucent wild garden. Curiously he brushed his hand against the trunk of an old oaken tree and watched wide-eyed as his hand passed right through it.

A slight rustling drew his attention and he turned his head to left. A stone appeared on the lush grass, then a second and before long there was a small stone path winding its way into the distance.

The melody grew more intense, swirling around excitedly and Harry almost heard faint whispering voices beckoning him.

Cautiously he started to follow the path, cold stone yielding under him, hard yet strangely soft, as if he had stepped on something that was not quite _there_.

Something was glittering in front of him. Harry walked closer and found himself standing in front of a gigantic black lake.

And directly in the middle hidden and obscured in mist, was the faint outline of something tall.

Slowly he crossed over a wide, open marble bridge. Beneath him the lake rippled softly as thousands of small drops dripped into it, letting out mournful cries as they breached its surface.

Harry raised his head to see where those drops were coming from, but there was nothing. Only dark emptiness.

He watched in morbid fascination as the lake _pulsed_ and faces appeared, desperate and blurred like last impressions of faded dreams.

The blurred lines grew sharper as the mist lost its density and finally took the distinct shape of a round pavilion.

It looked like it had been taken directly out of a Greek fairy tale; columns entwined with ivy arching into the sky and despite flickering between reality and non-existence, it still stood majestic and proud.

A shrine was placed in the very center of it, a single piece of wood lying atop of a velvet cushion.

And right there next to it was a golden harp, blood-stained strings playing _his_ melody.

Harry stepped closer, a genuine smile on his lips as the melody danced joyously at his approach, _welcoming_ him and for the first time in his life Harry felt like he _belonged_.

A particularly high tune nudged him softly into the vicinity of the shrine and the crimson wood twitched impatiently, yearning into his direction.

Slowly he reached his hand out, letting it hover uncertainly, before closing his fingers around it in silent reverence.

Warmth flooded him and bright red sparks emitted from the end of the stick. And Harry realized with sudden certainty, that he had just found his wand.

Suddenly feeling extremely tired Harry settled down next to the shrine, leaned his head against the half-solid stone and closed his eyes.

Sleep claimed him in seconds.

-

Clothes rustled quietly as a dark figure knelt next to the sleeping child and stroked tenderly through black hair. " ** **You have a long road ahead of you, little one.**** "

The figure raised it's hand and the dark lake suddenly began to _shudder,_ the surfaceshook with agitated ripples and water rose as it parted sluggishly.

A single black petal emerged between moaning fluid walls and floated gently into his outstretched hands.

He turned back to the sleeping child, water walls crumbling behind him; crashing back into the lake and settling down with a content purr.

Warm lips brushed lovingly over the child's forehead. " ** **A gift for your journey.**** "

The child glowed, muttering something in his sleep and the figure smiled fondly. Two strong arms closed protectively around the young boy.

" ** **Rest for a while.**** "

-

Green eyes blinked as awareness returned. Harry shook his head to clear his foggy mind. He must have spaced out. No wonder, it was rather hot today.

Promising himself to get something to drink soon, he stepped away from Ollivander's, humming a dark, haunting tune.

Behind him the shadows shivered.

-

Garrick Ollivander was just putting away his newly obtained unicorn hair, when his eyes suddenly glazed over. Confusion flickered in his silvery eyes, before his face cleared and he smiled.

"Cherry and Phoenix Feather 12", yes indeed a good match for the young Potter."

He carefully put the lid on the box and retreated to the backroom, completely unaware of the formless shade silently melting back into the shadows.

-

The afternoon brought a slight reprieve for the heat-plagued shoppers. The air had cooled slightly and a soft breeze provided a pleasant chill.

Harry Potter felt something akin to relief as he left the crowded bookstore. There were just way too many people in there. If he did not know better, he would have said that someone took the entire population of Little Whinging and shoved them together into a tiny room. Now wasn't this a _pleasant_ thought?

He shook his head at his own ridiculousness and glanced at his watch. Four pm. He felt strangely drained. And he had yet to find a way to keep his dear relatives quiet.

But he was too exhausted and hungry to worry about that now. Perhaps it would be best if he went home and took a look at some of the books he had just bought.

He could always make Petunia or Vernon drive him over again.

Chuckling darkly, he left the alley.

-

Big Ben stroke five o'clock when a tired worker tried to tie the last letter to the owl's talon, but the bird was restless and kept shifting around.

Shrugging the woman left the knot as it was and sent the overeager bird off. It was closing time, anyway.

The owl was already halfway through London, as the carelessly tied knot slackened and the letter fell, slowly floating down until it came to rest on the paved street, it's edge dipping into a small, watery puddle.

And as if fortune willed it, it just happened that a wizard carrying a stack of letters passed by, dropping them in fright as he had to jump out of the way of a speeding car.

Complaining about filthy muggles, the man crouched down and picked them back up and started cursing as he saw that one had become soaked in water.

He picked it up, tiny drops sprinkling from the paper and peered down at the washed-out recipient.

_Of Wizardry_

Well, that was sufficient enough. And the sender was still readable, too.

With a flick of his wand he dried the envelope and activated his portkey.

-

The freshly brewed herbal tea calmed the air with relaxing lavender. Harry closed his hands around the cup as he lounged lazily in Vernon's favorite armchair.

_The Dark War_ was laying open in his lap, showing the passage that had caused the deeply contemplative look on the young boy's face.

_"Nobody knows what happened the night You-Know-Who attacked the Potters. All that can be said for sure is, that James and Lily Potter died that night. Only their son, one-year-old Harry Potter, survived. It is speculated that You-Know-Who_ ' _s mysterious disappearance is somehow linked to - "_

The passage ended abruptly and continued talking about some ministry regulations that had been made in the aftermath of the war that had been ended? Interrupted? Postponed?

Harry did not know what to think about it. He still remembered what _The Rise and The Fall of the Dark Arts_ had to say about that.

_"The Dark Lord was last seen attacking the Potter Family on All Hallow's Eve. Both Lily and James Potter fell to his wand. You-Know-Who has since then disappeared, life or death unknown.“_

Life or death unknown.

So the Dark Lord still could be out somewhere. Somehow that thought made him feel very excited.

Yes, that man had killed his parents, but it had been _war_. It was not like he actually had any memories of them. Sure, they gave birth to him and he was grateful for that. But that was about it. Did that make him a bad son? Perhaps. But he did not care. Harry was done with being judged.

And as he prepared for bed that night, thinking about how nice it would be to actually _meet_ the Dark Lord, a formless shade shimmered into Harry's room, leaving an untitled small booklet sitting innocently on top of the book stack.

-

The silent watcher smirked in satisfaction, red eyes glowing with gleeful anticipation.

The stage was set.

Let darkness reign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The silent watcher is an important key player in the long run, but definitely _not_ a love interest. Strictly HP/TMR here ;-)
> 
> You probably won't see him too often for now, since his current main purpose is full-filled. 
> 
> **Silent watcher:** "Is that so?"  
>  **Random parenting book author:** "Yes, Harry needs space to grow into his own."  
>  **Silent watcher:** "My home is spacious enough. Give me my child back."  
>  **The Dark Lord:** "No. He is mine now."  
>  **Silent Watcher:** " _Unhand my child, you cretin!_ "  
>  **Harry:** (walking in) "Are you two fighting over that cactus again?"
> 
> **Next chapter:** Harry shows his evil side and we get our first glimpse of the Dark Lord...


	3. First Movements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone :D  
> Sooo...I upped the rating. I really did not intend to do this, but then our favorite Dark Lord marched in and did something completely different then planned...and well...I kind of realized, it would probably only get worse with him around. So better be safe *xD*
> 
>  **Warnings for this chapter:** Slight torture

Harry traced his finger over the black leather, it felt warm under his touch. The binding was unblemished, even though the booklet had to have a history. The pages were old; yellowed and slightly brittle and yet pliant enough to be easily handled.

‘Probably some kind of preservation charm.', he mused quietly. He was most curious about this little book. He could not remember buying it and yet here it was. Harry did still not know much about magic, but he knew enough to be sure that books randomly appearing out of nowhere was _not_ normal.

But there was nothing that seemed dangerous about it. Granted, that did not have to mean anything. _He_ did not look particularly dangerous as well, but he certainly was.

His relatives could attest to that.

Harry's lips twitched slightly in dark amusement.

His _wand_ at least, seemed to like the book well enough. He had left both on the bed when he had went for a bathroom break and when he had returned his wand had been laying _on top_ of the black book, humming cheerfully. If he had not known better, he would have thought that his wand was _cuddling_ with it.

And that was what it finally decided for him. He settled against the headboard and resolutely opened the book.

Green eyes flashed in malicious excitement as they read the title.

****MIND MAGICKS** **

Well, didn't that sound promising?

-

It was a nightmare. A terrible, cruel nightmare. It had to be. Petunia Dursley stood in the doorway, her hand clamped over her mouth, eyes wide in horror as her body trembled, only a breath away from crumbling onto the sticky, mouldy kitchen floor.

She stumbled, trying to find support on the wall beside her and shrieked as her shaking hand landed in something wet and squishy. She ripped it away from the wall and stared at the red tomato juice dripping from her fingers.

Slowly her head rose in trepidation and her mouth opened in a silent scream when she realized that her perfectly white wall had turned into a gigantic red mess.

A soft squeaking sound made her whirl around. Five dog-sized rats were jumping right at her, yellow eyes gleaming hungrily and Petunia _wailed_ in terror.

She fled out of the kitchen into the corridor and slipped on the meshed, muddy ground that had once been an expensive oaken floor, tumbled trough the open door and landed face-first in a gigantic pile of dung.

Curling up into a sticky, reeking heap, Petunia cried.

Soft, cruel laughter accompanied the lifting illusion.

-

Harry was tired. Maintaining an illusion of this magnitude was really consuming. But also strangely _exhilarating_. To be able to change someone's perception, to warp and mould their mind according to his own will made him feel so _powerful_. It was different from causing physical pain, because if it became too much you could always try to seek refuge in your mind. But if you attacked the _mind_ instead of the body, they had _nowhere_ to go. Nowhere to retreat.

And it was incredibly amusing to see them run away from terrors that existed only in their imaginations.

Harry absolutely _adored_ that little black book; wherever it may come from.

Smirking evilly he buried himself into the second chapter. He still had two weeks left before he had to leave and he fully intended to get next step done. It would help him tremendously with controlling his relatives.

He flipped the page and smiled darkly at the caption.

****Compulsions** **

****-** **

The name was glittering on the page in fluid, crimson ink. The Master of The Book was intrigued. He could not remember seeing this name in the _Book of Admittance_ and yet here it was, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It should not be possible. The Book of Admittance could not simply be changed.

But it _had_.

"How very curious", the man muttered and put the child's letter down.

The shadows around the room flickered as he contemplated the mystery that was Harry James Potter.

****-** **

Parchment crackled quietly as Albus Dumbledore unrolled the list containing the incoming students.

It was a regrettably short list, the war with the Dark had been way too costly. Entire families had been wiped out and many old lines were lost.

His eyes clouded in sadness as he looked at the meager number of names. Thirty students. He recognized many of them as part of the more prominent families.

His lips lifted into a soft smile as he saw that they would have yet _another_ Weasley. He was really curious to see how young Ronald had turned out.

He frowned slightly as realized that a name was missing. James and Lily Potters' son was slotted to attend this year. But his name was not on the list.

An uneasy feeling grew in his stomach. He grabbed the list, raised from his chair and went to the fireplace.

Orange turned into green as he called for Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

His call was answered almost immediately. Flames flared as a woman stepped out; stern eyes fixed on the headmaster.

"What is it, Albus? I am rather busy right now."

"I apologize.", Dumbledore answered with a friendly smile. "I just want to ask you a quick question."

He held up the parchment. "I have read the entire list, but I seem to miss a name."

Minerva McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I assure you Albus, this is the complete list of all students who have accepted their place at Hogwarts. I certainly did _not_ miss a name.", she sounded almost indignant.

"I do not doubt your diligence, Minerva. I am completely confident in your abilities. I am simply wondering why I can not find Harry Potter's name on the list.", Dumbledore answered gently.

"Ah." McGonagall countenance softened, a slight sadness in her eyes. "He did not reply, Albus."

Dumbledore's face went grim. "What do you mean he did not reply? Did he not receive his letter?"

"He did.", McGonagall answered calmly and Dumbledore felt himself relax, the child was still alive. "Otherwise the owls would have continued to go out until he received it. No Albus, he did not reply because he already got accepted somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?", Dumbledore sank slowly into his chair. He did not now why, but the fact that Harry Potter would _not_ be attending made him very uneasy.

A nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that having Harry at Hogwarts was _vital_ , but he could not come up with a single reason as to _why_. He was an eleven year old war orphan. Voldemort had vanished the night he had attacked the child's parents. But that had nothing to do with young Harry. Or had it?

His mind fogged over. What was he thinking about? Ah, yes...Lily's and James' child had decided to get his education somewhere else. Regrettable, because he would have enjoyed having their son around, but well within his rights.

Sighing deeply he sent his Deputy off. He still had to write dear Nicolas.

-

The cell-door opened with a loud, menacing creak. Footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor, unforgiving and unnaturally loud. The prisoner cowered his ragged and bloodied body against the wall and stared wide eyed as his captor came to a stop in front of him, crowding him even further against the unyielding rock.

The silence was absolute as the captors eyes trailed lazily over the trembling prisoner.

"You look tired. Are the accommodations not to your liking?"

A wand trailed threateningly across the pudgy man's jawline and soft whimpers turned into a pain-filled scream as a thin red line appeared on his right cheek.

"Answer me when I talk to you." the captor chastised mildly and rested his wand against the man's throat.

"No - ...", the man rasped, a dry broken sound, formed by even drier lips.

Red bled into the captors' gaze and blue morphed into purple. " _Crucio_.", he whispered, his voice quiet and cutting like a chilly winter breeze.

The prisoner screamed as his world was reduced to pain and he drowned in agony, his entire _being_ nothing more than one gigantic nerve, relentlessly tortured by thousands of hot pricking needles.

Seconds turned into eternity and when the pain finally left, his body still continued trembling, like it was trying to shake of a horrific memory.

"Do you want to try again?", the captor offered casually, sounding like he had not just tortured a man and was merely another teacher giving his student a second try at solving a specific problem.

"Please...stop", the prisoner dragged himself to his knees, leaving bloody stains on the floor. "... _my Lord_."

The Dark Lord took one look at the pathetic shivering man and chuckled coldly, eyes glowing in cruel mirth. "You want the pain to stop?"

He raised his wand and invisible hands suddenly dragged the prisoner up, throwing him harshly against the wall. "Then tell me what I want to know."

"Can't...", the man whimpered quietly, curling into himself. "...Oath..."

"Is that so?", the Dark Lord sounded completely unconcerned as he crouched down in front of his prisoner. "How unfortunate."

"But do not worry." A malicious smile appeared on his face. "There are ways around that."

Chains suddenly sprouted from the floor, winding themselves around the man's limbs and closing with a final, foreboding click.

The Dark Lord smiled softly at his vulnerable prisoner. It was a demon's smile, deceptively soft and yet full of warmth - burning hotter then the deepest depth of hell.

And then he spoke again, his words flowing like silk over an inflamed flesh wound. "Physical pain is one way. I could keep you here, chained up and torture you until your voice is coarse from screaming and your mind breaks under the strain. I wonder how long you would last until you begged me for death..."

He trailed off, relishing in the deep expression of terror on the man's battered face.

"But sadly, I do not have enough time for that."

The Dark Lord paused long enough to allow a tiny spark of hope to rise in his prisoner's eyes, before ruthlessly squashing it out.

"So I will simply have to skip the torture and get the answers directly out of your mind. I sincerely doubt that you will have any sanity left after I am done, but I fear that can not be helped."

Terrified grey eyes linked with unyielding purple in a final, silent plea for mercy and the Dark Lord's lips curled into a mocking smile filled with sadistic pity. " _Legilimens_."

The man screamed as he was suddenly assaulted by the complete vicious ruthlessness that was the Dark Lord's mind. He felt himself slowly fading away as the Dark Lord mercilessly ripped, teared and pulled through everything that made him _be,_ unearthing every single of his secrets and _shattering_ through the protective barriers that were his oath.

Slowly the Dark Lord withdrew from the man's mind, eyes glittering in satisfaction. He finally had his answer.

_"Durmstrang_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you liked his first appearance, even if it did _not_ go as planned. But well, he _demanded_...
> 
> Updates will be a bit slower from now on (college work calls again) and I'll have to see how this fic fits in best. I am aiming for once a week for now and see how it works.


	4. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here. The new chapter. Sorry for taking so long, but it seemed that I really underestimated my professors fierce determination to become Dark Lords themselves.  
> Well, at least it felt like it. Honestly, the workload was insane. So much for once a week. 
> 
> In any case, thank you very much for your continued interest and support 😊

The air was heavy with dust. Harry could almost taste it. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like he had just run it over a rough paper tissue. He shivered unconsciously at the unpleasant sensation and coughed lightly, but the tingling feeling remained.

He tried to distract himself by looking around, but he could not see anything. His surroundings were shrouded in darkness and his ears thrummed with eerie silence.

Slowly he started moving, careful steps echoing loudly, rebounding from high walls, hollow and empty and yet strangely somber, like he was walking over a stone grave.

But strangely the darkness seemed to recede with each step he took , loosing substance and becoming lighter, until he could finally see the faint flickering of orange light.

Torches ignited on smooth walls and Harry could finally see.

Looming in front of him was a statue. The man on the pedestal was clearly carved out of stone and yet he seemed strangely tangible, as if he could step down any moment and come back to life.

Harry's eyes trailed over the man's clear features. He was unnaturally handsome, tall and dressed in some kind of old-fashioned battle armor.

But it was the expression on the man's face that captivated Harry the most. His lips were twisted into dark satisfied smirk and his eyes showed more cruelty then Harry believed was humanly possible.

And for some strange reason he felt drawn to this man. Drawn to his inhumanity, forever immortalized in cold stone.

And suddenly there was a sudden glint in those cruel eyes. The air shifted slightly as a single black petal floated out of the man's outstretched hand and hit the floor with a clear, shattering sound.

Harry's eyes widened as the petal _broke_ in front of him with a pain-filled cry, shimmering pieces scattering over stone and dancing around each other to the tune of his melody.

The tune grew darker and Harry watched in fascination as the pieces started to _melt_ into each other, one by one. Until they were only one black shimmering mass. A black, shimmering, _morphing_ mass.

_Rap. Rap._

" ** _ **Master...**_** "

_Rap. Rap._

-

Harry opened his eyes. He just had a very strange dream. Something about a tomb? How peculiar. He blinked at the blinding sunlight gleaming through the half-closed curtains. Ah, was it already morning?

Harry peered at the window. The sky was completely clear. Well, perhaps he could -

_Rap. Rap._

Harry paused.

Something was knocking on his window. An owl?

Curious, Harry stood up and walked over. Pulling his curtains open, he blinked as he looked directly into the large eyes of a brown owl.

-

**_**Welcome to the Durmstrang Institute of Wizardry  
** _ **

_Dear Mr. H.J. Potter,_

_we have received your acceptance letter and look forward to welcome you at our institution._

_Enclosed you will find your portkey. It will activate at noon on 7_ _ th _ _September. Be sure not to miss it, otherwise you will_ **_**not** _ ** _be able to attend._

_Please note that your supplies for the upcoming term will be provided for you._

_Further information will be handed out during the welcoming ceremony._

_Yours sincerely,_

_The Master of the Book_

Harry hummed thoughtfully, eyes trailing lazily over the letter in his hand. Now, _this_ was a rather interesting development.

Just how had his acceptance letter for _Hogwarts_ ended up at _Durmstrang_? He had not even known that there was another school aside of Hogwarts.

But... Harry paused and tapped his finger against his chin. It did make kind of sense.

There were lots of cultures out there. So why should an Indian wizard or an Egyptian witch attend an _English_ school? _Of course_ they would have a school of their own.

So why had he received this letter?

Harry glanced at the thick, heavy parchment in his hands, green eyes glittering with excitement. He really looked forward to solving this mystery.

But first...His eyes wandered to the booklet sitting innocently on his bedside table.

He had some practice to do.

-

Sweat was dripping down from Vernon's face as his feet dragged up the stairs in a monotone rhythm. His breathing had been reduced to a helpless wheeze and his legs could not have felt heavier if they had been replaced with sandbags. He wanted it to stop. But his mind just kept pushing him on and on.

_Step. Drag._

_Step. Drag._

Three hours. He had been walking up and down the stairs for two whole hours without even pausing once.

He was tired.

_Step. Drag._

So tired.

_Step. Drag._

Stop.

_Step. Drag._

Please stop.

He smiled in relief as darkness claimed him.

"So weak.", Harry commented in distaste and stepped over his uncle's unconscious weighty form, smiling darkly as his foot met a meaty hand and bones yielded under pressure.

-

Harry was satisfied. He had finally managed to implant a compulsion. That would simplify things for him. Granted, he had no idea how long this compulsion would last and how effective it would be long-term, but he was quite confident that it would at least keep his relatives quiet as long as he was gone. It had to suffice until he discovered a more secure method.

He glanced at the calendar. The last day of August. In one week he would finally get to attend his new school. Harry felt a sudden surge of excitement.

Getting accepted at Durmstrang rather then Hogwarts had been a rather unexpected development. But aside of getting to solve an interesting mystery, Harry did not particularly care about where he got to study. As long as his teachers were competent enough.

And if not, well...they surely had a library. Self-study had always been his forte.

A sunbeam tickled his nose and Harry blinked contently at the shining sun. Perhaps he could allow himself a moment to relax.

He was quite prepared after all.

With an unusually soft smile Harry left to get his violin and the warm afternoon air was soon filled with the sound of the Devil’s Trill.

-

He was so engrossed in his playing that he completely failed to notice the shadows tightening around him. A dark aura enveloped him, gentle and caring and from the shadows a shade rose, formless and yet substantial.

Flowers and trees alike seemed to shy away from the being as it glided soundlessly towards the boy, ruthless eyes filled with fondness and devotion.

" ** _ **Master.**_** "

Harry stilled and lowered his violin. His long hair danced softly in the warm breeze as he stared at the being in front of him that seemed so strange and yet so familiar. Like a long forgotten friend.

"Who are you?"

The being knelt down and lowered its head in deference.

" ** _ **Your shadow, Master.**_** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the second important character entered! Unlike the Silent Watcher this one will get a regular appearance. An aspiring Dark Lord needs a loyal right hand after all. ;-)
> 
> But don't worry, this will **not** become a " _point your overpowered henchman at your enemy and let him deal with it while you lean back and eat cake._ " kind of fic.


	5. The Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mah~ So I am back again...yeah I know my updating speed gets probably outpaced by a snail, so thanks for bearing with it and of course for your wonderful comments. =)  
> So I should probably mention that I add to the tags as I go and yes, there will be females too ;-)

Harry stared at the deferent figure - his shadow? - in front of him. It was shapeless, almost transparent and yet strangely solid.

The sun vanished behind a cloud and for a second the figure seemed to take form, humanoid features flickering through shadows like a fleeting illusion of a distant memory.

It was fascinating.

Unconsciously, Harry stepped closer, his heart filled with the sudden desire to see, to touch. He wanted to know if this was real, he _needed_ to know.

The well-maintained violin bow dropped as he reached out, but he paid it no mind. He was only interested in the figure - _his shadow?_ \- and the surprising warmth under his palm. It was a very strange sensation. It felt like he was touching and being touched at the same time. Only much fainter - as if the figure was sending a vague echo of his feelings right back to him.

That was when Harry realized with sudden, disbelieving clarity that this shade truly wasa _part_ of him _-_ like another limb, perhaps a third hand - and with that realization another one came.

An unpleasant one.

His shadow was _kneeling_.

It felt wrong.

Degrading.

_Humiliating_.

No part of himself should ever do something as lowly as kneeling. He wanted this figure - _his shadow!_ \- upright and confident. He wanted it to be proud and dominating and entirely terrifying.

Harry stepped forward onto the brightly illuminated patch of grass that should have been cast into a human-shaped shadow, his power raising in his veins as he spoke the words that fell unbiddenly from his lips.

"From now on you will be known as ****Atervis****. _Ater_ , for you shall be the acheronian force that hides in the dark. _Vis,_ for you shall have the power to act in my name."

It was as if the entire world stopped breathing and time froze like a lake on a cold winter’s eve. The air around the shadow charged with malign power and in its place stood a faceless man, washed-out outlines seamlessly blurring into his surroundings.

Green eyed glittered in dark satisfaction at this casual display of strength.

Yes. That was what he wanted.

As if in response to his feelings, the humanoid figure gave a faceless smile.

-

Having a living shadow turned out to be very convenient. Atervis could go where Harry couldn’t. He could hide, where Harry would have been exposed. He was never seen, never heard, but always there. All he needed was another shade to melt into and no-one would ever detect his presence.

It was wonderful. It opened so many _possibilities_.

Harry was so excited by the things he could do now, that he promptly sent his shadow off to test his skills by spying on his neighbors and told him to return in five hours.

That had been one hour ago. He glanced at the window. The sun had long since set and dawn had fallen and for some unfathomable reason Harry had started to feel rather edgy.

-

_Two hours ten minutes_

Harry glanced at the empty spot on the floor. He had never paid attention to his shadow before. It was something you always overlooked, because it was just _there_. So having it missing and _knowing_ about it made the lack of it even more glaring.

It felt somewhat unreal.

-

_Three hours twenty minutes_

Something was stirring inside of him. Something cruel, something destructive. Harry wanted to let it loose, wanted to give in to it, but his control never faltered.

Trying to keep his mind of it, Harry stood and pulled a history book out of his shelf. Perhaps immersing himself in written facts and memories would help distract him.

-

_Four hours thirty Minutes_

A fly passed by his right ear and his hand snatched up to catch it. Closing his fingers loosely around the caged insect, Harry had the sudden overwhelming urge to _crush_ it.

His lips curled into a dark smile as he closed his hand.

-

_Five hours twenty-five minutes_

Blood dropped from the dull letter opener and Dudley screamed in pain, right hand clamping protectively over his injured shoulder.

Watching the crimson liquid fall on the place his shadow should have been, green eyes yearned in hunger.

-

_Five hours_

Harry watched his relatives writhing in agony. Blood was smeared on the floor. But it was not enough. Never enough.

He wanted more.

He _needed_ more.

He took a step forward and stopped when two arms suddenly tightened around him.

**_**"I have returned."** _ **

**__ **

**_**-** _ **

Harry breathed in relief as his shadow melted back into him. His mind cleared and his uneasiness settled, finally feeling _whole_ again. "What happened?"

" ** _ **Unbalance.**_** ", Atervis whispered quietly in his mind. " ** _ **Being separated from your shadow leaves you without grounding to the earth. You become more ruthless. More vindictive. It overwhelmed you. The effects will lessen in time and we will able to separate for much longer. When you become stronger - and more resilient- you will hardly notice it at all.**_** " **__ **

Harry frowned. "Why have you not told me of this before?“

" ** _ **Would it have mattered?**_** ", Atervis answered softly, already fully aware of the answer.

Harry stared at the bloodied forms of his relatives and shook his head. "No. Not at all."

-

He would have to be very careful, Harry decided as he readied himself for bed this night. His limits had to be thoroughly tested out. Something like this could not happen to him at school - or anywhere in public. For now he would make sure to keep their separation under five hours.

Satisfied with his decision, Harry closed his eyes and allowed Atervis’ calming voice to carry him over dark lakes into far distant lands filled with blood, pain and despair.

He slept soundly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you like where it's going. =) I am trying not to make Harry too OP here, so I had to give his ability a limitation while still keeping it strong enough.  
> Surprisingly, it's harder than I thought.
> 
>  **Next chapter:** Off to School!


	6. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I am back again. =) This time Harry is off to school.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support, even if I don't get around to writing as often as I'd like to. =) 
> 
> **Warning for this chapter:** Character Death

_"_ ** _ **They need to be dealt with.**_** _",_ Atervis whispered quietly, his unseeing eyes fixed on the three mutilated figures.

They looked like broken dolls, limbs twisted in a strange angle - as if childish hands had simply grabbed them and _yanked_. Paper-white faces were contorted in terror and agony shone brightly out of dull, lifeless orbs.

The wooden floor quivered under his steps as Harry stopped next to them and glanced dispassionately over the unmoving forms.

He felt nothing. No pleasure, no vindication, no guilt. It was like he had just squashed an ant beneath his feet and was now considering the best way to clean off the stain without getting himself dirty.

Harry's lips twisted into a cold smirk. He knew just the way to end it.

He would get his final revenge.

It would be perfect.

Beautiful.

_Poetic_.

His eyes flickered with hidden malice.

" _Char_ them ** **.**** "

Demonic serenity contorted his face as he picked up his trunk and left for the door.

Behind him his former home drowned in a sea of flames.

-

The silence of the office was shattered by a loud piercing sound. Men and women alike pressed their painted hands against their ears and ducked out of their ornate frames. A phoenix, ruthlessly yanked out of his morning nap, let out a startled shriek and vanished clumsily in a cloud of fire.

On the majestic wooden desk a strange golden instrument stopped its monotone swinging and stilled completely.

The office was silent once more.

Hands were taken down and the images of former headmasters exchanged confused glances before they shrugged and went on their way.

Down in the Great Hall and far away from his office, Albus Dumbledore picked up the strawberry jam.

-

**_**Giant Fire in Surrey** _ **

****

_Yesterday morning Little Whinging was in uproar as a fire broke out on Private Drive. Eight houses had completely burned down before the fire brigade finally managed to extinguish the fire. Reportedly twelve people lost their lives in the flames. Another seven are being treated for severe injuries. The police is investigating the cause of the fire._

Harry calmly put the newspaper down and buttered his toast. So the police was investigating. He strongly doubted that they would be able to find anything. According to Atervis everything had been completely burned out and Private Drive No.4 had been reduced to a pile of ashes and the other houses did not look much better.

It was a very impressive destruction and Harry was admittedly curious. "How could the damage be so immense?"

His shadow shivered and morphed into Atervis' familiar form. **_**"Because you wanted it. "** _ **

Harry put his cup freshly brewed herbal tea back down and turned towards his shadow. "I wanted it?" His voice was tinged with surprise.

" ** _ **You did not voice it, but I felt your desire. You wanted to burn more than just the bodies. I am your shadow, I draw on your intent and your desire to follow your orders. The enormity of the damage is merely the result of your strong wish for destruction.**_** ", a strange expression flitted over Atervis' shapeless face.

Was that pride?

Harry was not sure, but it reminded him strangely of the way his uncle had looked at his cousin

sometimes when the boy had done something that could be considered - at least in his relatives eyes - as spectacular. Like adding five to eleven without using a calculator.

Could it be that his shadow was proud of _him_ , too?

Harry looked at Atervis and for the fraction of a second he felt really warm inside before the rational part of his mind took over again and he refocused on the matter at hand.

He could not deny that he was satisfied with the outcome, but the fact that his shadow drew on his intent and not only his words to follow his orders was both very useful and very inconvenient.

It seemed like he would have to learn how to keep a tighter control on his own desires if he wanted to avoid further unplanned... _incidents_.

His eyes hardened.

He could not afford to loose control.

He refused to.

-

The remaining week passed by quickly. Harry spent most of the time inside his room reading or strolling through Diagon Alley.

He had chosen the _Leaky Cauldron_ as his temporary residence. Not really his preferred choice, but currently his best option.

He would have to see about some more permanent accommodations once he returned for the summer.

" ** _ **It is time.**_** _",_ Atervis reminded him, soundlessly appearing next to Harry's chair. The boy acknowledged his shadow's reminder with a short nod and closed _A Compendium to Transfiguration_ , a several thousand pages thick book he had acquired at Flourish and Blotts yesterday.

Carefully putting his reading material away, he grabbed the handle of his trunk and picked the portkey up. The black crystal cube felt cool under his hands.

Atervis' form dissolved and the empty space behind Harry as filled up once again.

As Big Ben announced 12 o'clock, Harry's world spun.

-

Harry felt like he was being dragged through a twirling colored vortex. Space twisted around him as he breached its walls and entire areas were reduced to short blurred images as they folded themselves like a fan.

It took about half a minute before the spinning slowed and Harry could see the ground arriving beneath his feet.

**_**"Bend your knees.",**_** Atervis whispered quietly in his head and Harry obeyed, landing almost gracefully on a black crystal floor.

It took a moment until he had his senses back under control. Once he was sure that gravity had embraced him again, he straightened slightly and glanced at his surroundings.

He was standing inside a wide, open hall filled with about a dozen people. The walls, made of the same strange black crystal were arching high and Harry tried to follow them, to see what they were reaching for, but the ceiling was so high above him, his eyes could not even see it. There was only darkness.

Harry suddenly had the strange feeling that he had seen this hall before. It felt so familiar and yet somehow different, although he could not say _why_ he thought that.

His musings were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a young man. He did not look older than twenty-six and exuded a somewhat sharp, but scholarly air.

He stopped in front of Harry and fixed him with intelligent, but somehow calculating blue eyes. There was something assessing in the man's gaze and Harry instantly knew that he was someone you had to watch out for.

"Welcome to Durmstrang.", the man finally stated after a short, deliberate pause. His greeting came slowly and clearly, like he was carefully weighting and considering every word before speaking it.

"May I please see your portkey?"

Harry glanced at the clipboard in the man's hand and concluded that he was obviously tasked with checking the arrivals.

"Of course.", he answered simply and handed the crystal over. The man took it and inspected it carefully. 

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter.", he muttered after a short pause, ticked something off on his clipboard and returned the cube to Harry. "Keep that and go through that archway over there. The initiation will begin shortly."

The man left with measured steps to greet another arrival. Harry watched his departure through narrowed eyes, before he looked at the archway that he had been directed to.

It fit seamlessly into the hall. Had it not been pointed out to him, he would simply have thought that it was there for aesthetic purposes, because it clearly led to the western part of the hall. He could see the wall through it.

Or could he?

Curiously Harry approached the archway. The cube in his hand glowed as he stepped through it and his surroundings faded into a deep all-consuming black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...that was Harry's arrival at Durmstrang. Next time we get to see the initiation. 
> 
> Now the more interesting chapters are coming up and I can finally go crazy with world-building (or is it school-building?) Durmstrang. I am really looking forward to it. (And to Harry's adventures. And to the idiots he gets to put down - yes, you get to see that. I love it, too when MCs do that. *xD* )
> 
> On a vaguely related note, I have started a character overview at <https://woven-tales.tumblr.com/dc> to help you keep track of the characters (because I know how hard it can be to remember names of OCs when you are reading multiple fics)


	7. Initiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. =) Yeah, I am back. Sorry for the long wait. I am not going to make excuses, just that life can be *insert favorite swearword(s)* 
> 
> Anyway. This is the new chapter.
> 
> Thank you very much for sticking around for so long. =)

The first thing Harry saw when he regained his senses was the blinding light reflecting from black crystal walls. It stabbed into his eyes like a sharp iron spike and a sharp pained hiss escaped through his clenched teeth.

„Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them.“, a stern voice demanded. The reprimand (or warning?), echoed around him, seemingly coming from every direction at the same time.

Harry felt a sudden surge of annoyance at the commanding tune, bristling at the fact that someone tried to order him around, but he kept his eyes shut and slowly the stabbing pain ebbed away until it was nothing more than an annoying thrumming in the back of his mind.

‘Atervis, what is going on? Can you see something?’, he demanded, but he received no answer.

  
_’Atervis_?’, he tried again, his voice getting a sharp tinge.

His shadow remained silent.

Why didn’t he answer? Had he left him?

But Atervis would never do this, right?

He was his shadow. He could not leave him.

So why didn’t he answer?

Harry forced himself to calm down.

Maybe there was something that stopped him from replying.

But even if his shadow was not here, he was strong enough on his own.

The voice spoke again. “You may open your eyes now.”

Harry did not need to be told twice. He hated being unable to see what was happening around him.

It was like he had stepped into a convoluted memory. In front of him was Private Drive No. 4 in all its burnt glory, tiny flames dancing in the debris like the last reminders of a raging inferno.

He turned around. The entire street was a picture of destruction, the former main road covered in bricks, wood, and broken glass. Harry started to walk forward, shards of a shattered window crunching beneath his feet.

Around him the wind started to pick up and a strange tension filled the air.

“You killed us.”, a voice whispered.

“Murderer.”, a second joined in.

“Killer.”, a third hissed.

“ _Demon_.”

And from the ashes they rose. Mangled corpses of the former inhabitants, reduced to nothing more but skin and bone.

They started to close in.

“Murderer.”

“Murderer.”

The circle closed around him. Harry took a deep breath, his heart beat rapidly. He tried to call upon his power, his saving grace, but it did not answer.

Panicked, he stared at his hands. No.

No.

That could not be happening. He could not have lost his powers!

“You are _powerless_.”, the corpse of his uncle whispered maliciously.

“ _Helpless_.”, the skeleton, that was his aunt chimed in.

“Don’t you want to play with me, Harry?”, Dudley asked cheerfully.

“Powerless.”, the corpses took up the chant.

“Helpless.”

No.

No.

_No._

Harry grabbed his head and looked around with wild eyes. He was not powerless. He was not helpless. Not again.

He refused to. He was the one in control. Always!

But his magic was gone.

Everything was gone.

His future ruined.

His uncle was now right in front of him, face twisted into something primal. Something feral.

“Come boy. Why don’t you prepare us a chicken roast?”

Harry trembled.

His uncle’s hand had almost reached his face.

No. Not again.

Never again.

With a furious snarl he pulled back his fist and punched his uncle right into his face.

He vanished. The entire world around him shattered and Harry found himself back in the hall he had first arrived in.

He bent over and panted heavily.

Next to him someone clapped slowly. Harry raised his head and looked directly into purple eyes. Their gazes connected and Harry suddenly felt a strange sense of familiarity despite never having met the man before.

“Well done, Mr. Potter. You successfully passed the initiation. I hope you were not too…distressed.” The way the man voiced the last word sounded as if he thought the concept amusing. “This school is not for the faint-hearted. You should prepare yourself.”

The man’s lips curved into a deceptively soft smile. “Welcome to Durmstrang, Harry Potter.”

Somehow it sounded like a threat.

-

Slowly the hall was filling with more and more people. Some were streaming in through the doors, others appeared out of nowhere, looking panicked or hyperventilating. They had probably just passed the initiation, too.

Suddenly there was a purple flash and a girl fell on the floor. She curled herself into a fetus position and whimpered quietly.

Immediately two people appeared next to her. They were dressed completely in black. Wordlessly they grabbed the shivering girl and disappeared.

Next to him someone sighed. “Poor thing. But I suppose she just was too weak.”

Harry turned around. A blonde boy was standing next to him and looking at the spot the men had just vacated.

The boy grinned at him. “Oh, well. Perhaps she will get stronger if she gets a couple of curses thrown at her.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Curses?”

“Hm? You don’t know?”, the blonde asked, and Harry felt a flash of irritation. He hated not knowing something.

“They use those who don’t pass the initiation as test subjects for the students. Or at least those who don’t have a strong backing.” His grin turned into a smirk. “I am Caius Malfoy by the way. And you?”

“Harry Potter.”, Harry answered calmly.

“A Potter?”, Caius sounded surprised. “At _Durmstrang_?” His smirked widened. “Now _that’s_ interesting.”

Harry was about to ask why, but before he could open his mouth a man’s voice rang across the room. “Attention, students! The headmaster arrives!”

A bearded man appeared on the podium. His posture was rigid and strict. He looked like a general about to command an army. But Harry was more interested in the purple-eyed man that followed him. In comparison to the Headmaster his movements were fluid and elegant. He was like a panther ready to jump. A true predator.

There was only one word Harry could describe him with: dangerous.

-

Durmstrang had very strange rules. Obey your instructors. Do not talk back. Never break curfew. And the most important and sacred one:

**“** Under no circumstances are you to take half-a-step on the grand staircase on the fourth floor.”, the headmaster declared, and he sounded almost menacing. “If you fail to comply to this rule the consequences will be _beyond_ severe.”

“I heard they actually tortured one student to death just because he accidentally spilled some juice on it.”, Caius muttered quietly, looking almost apprehensive. “They say he screamed for _months_.”

**‘Sounds pleasant.’,** his shadow commented.

‘ _Atervis_.’, Harry thought, secretly relieved. ‘ _Where have you been_?’

**‘My apologies. Our connection was blocked when you entered the cave.’,** Atervis answered.

Harry frowned. ‘This is possible?’

‘ **Every power has a counter. Even death.** ’

‘ _What power can counter death?_ ’

‘ **Life.’**

**-**

“Your interference is destroying everything!”, a woman in white yelled angrily. “You have no right!”

“No right?”, the Silent Watcher repeated quietly. He slid forward, a fast, slinking motion and grabbed the woman by her chin. Her eyes widened in terrified surprise.

“Quite the contrary, my dear.” The Silent Watcher tightened his grip and the woman whimpered painfully. “Do not forget that I was here before you.”

He leaned in, his breath sending dark shivers down the woman’s spine.

“ **I. Have. Every. Right**.”

His grip loosened and with one sharp, ruthless motion the woman was pushed into the dark abyss behind them.

“It is time you learn your place, _Ultima_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Well, I am really happy that this is _not_ a school I have to attend. *xD*
> 
> Oh and by the way, if you need a short refresher on everything that's happened, I am keeping a summary and a sorted list of all appearing characters [here](https://woven-tales.tumblr.com/dc).


	8. Mistakes

Luckily enough, they had been assigned single rooms. Harry did not know how he would have reacted had he actually been forced to share.

He liked his peace and quiet. He liked having his own space. His own kingdom where he could do whatever he wanted, and intruders were not welcome. _At all_.

Harry settled down on the satin-covered bed and surveyed his surroundings. He had a desk, a closet, and a chair available to him. It would do for now. He would have more than enough time to decorate this plain white room – but now he had to deal with some more pressing matters.

He was in unknown territory. A strange unknown territory. He could not let this fact stand like that. He had to know his surroundings. He had to know every door, every step to feel secure enough to settle.

“Atervis.”, he commanded. “Explore. Return in three hours.”

“ ** _As you wish._** ”, his shadow whispered and separated from him, melting into the soft flickering darkness of the candle’s flame. Almost immediately Harry felt the strange ripping sensation, as if something important was torn away from him. He pressed his hand against his chest and breathed deeply, forcefully suppressing the sudden inhuman part that he had just woken.

Three hours. He could handle three hours.

Trying to distract himself, Harry stepped towards the closet and opened the doors. A uniform was hanging in there. He took it out and carefully arranged it on his bedding.

It was a very simple uniform. Plain black trousers and a crimson longsleeve. No decorations. No school emblem.

He furrowed his brows. Somehow that uniform seemed rather…underwhelming. With all the secrecy going on he had expected something more…well impressive. Maybe a robe, or even the wizarding equivalent of a suit…but a longsleeve?

Harry picked the uniform up and entered the adjoining bathroom. He might as well try it on. For now, all he could do was watch – and learn.

-

The time passed slowly, and Harry was starting to get slightly hungry. Suddenly there was a loud knock on his door.

Harry threw a glance at his clock and narrowed his eyes. There was still half an hour left until Atervis was slated to return.

He cursed himself for his lack of foresight. _Of course_ someone would come and look for him. It was time for dinner after all. How could he have _forgotten_?

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. He had no other choice. Calling upon the power within, Harry threw up an illusion. The empty ground behind him darkened and a shadowed version of himself appeared on the floor.

It was a taxing and complex illusion to keep up, especially since he could already feel the cold cruelty prickling just below his skin.

Harry straightened himself and opened the door. A small, strange creature was looking up at him with overly large round eyes, pointy ears hanging down the sides.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The small creature bowed. “Minky is sorry for disturbing. Minky is supposed to show Mr. Potter the dining room.”

“Fine.”, Harry replied coldly. “Lead the way.”

He closed the door behind him and followed the meek creature, not even bothering to hide his distain over the skittish behavior.

Harry could not stand weak creatures like that. One blow and they would break down, crying and bawling.

He snorted and ordered Minky to go faster.

The tiny thing practically stumbled over itself to obey.

 _Pathetic_.

-

The Dark Lord glanced leisurely over the assembled students, completely ignoring the man sitting next to him. Igor Karkaroff was not even worth a single second of his attention. The man had committed treason and the Dark Lord did _not_ like being betrayed. In fact, he loathed it with every fiber of his being.

But to make things even worse, Igor Karkaroff was not only a traitor, he was also a _spineless_ traitor; running and hiding like a rat instead of owning up and going down fighting.

 _Pathetic_.

If he had not some use left for the man, he would have swatted him down like the insignificant fly he was.

He sneered slightly and turned his attention back towards the hall. For some strange reason his eyes automatically fell on a young black-haired child sitting next to a Malfoy scion. The Dark Lord did not know what drew him in, but somehow the child was different. Maybe it was the assured way he held himself, or maybe it was the child’s aura. The boy had _presence, and_ he was not talking about the kind you could fake by using dark artifacts. There was something dark and tantalizing surrounding the child.

As if he realized that he had been watched, the boy raised his head and impossibly green eyes bore into his. The Dark Lord could see the thinly suppressed cruelty flickering in the emerald flames and he felt his heart skip slightly.

He recognized him now. Harry James Potter. How could a child of the _Potters_ carry so much real darkness within him?

Interesting.

The child smiled at him. It was not a happy smile. It was angelic and mirthless and so endlessly vicious.

The Dark Lord found himself smiling back, just as cruel, and demonic and the boy’s eyes twinkled in silent amusement.

 _Very_ interesting.

-

The metal strain was taking a terrible toll on him. Harry could feel his control slipping. Something inside him cracked. The illusion was just too hard to hold up.

But he had to hold on.

Just a bit longer.

Just a bit…

A quiet tune started to play, and Harry felt suddenly very light. It was as if a blanket had settled around him, wrapping him in a secure warm bubble.

“ _Oh child._ ”, a voice whispered, and it sounded both eternal and endlessly far away, as if separated by the veils of reality. Invisible hands cradled his head. “ _What are you doing to yourself?_ ”

The shadows around Harry twisted and suddenly a formless shade appeared in front of him. ‘Atervis?’, he wondered distantly.

A hand withdrew from his face, grabbed the shade, and pushed it forcefully at him. Harry felt his shadow melt back into him and his entire being relaxed. “ _Don’t do it again._ ”, the voice whispered, slowly fading away. “ _You are way too young to birth shadows._ ”

-

“…okay?”

Harry shook his head and blinked at the boy sitting next to him. “Sorry?”, he replied automatically.

“I wanted to know if you are okay.”, Caius Malfoy repeated with a frown on his face. “You were spacing out here.”

“Just fine. I am only a bit tired.”, Harry answered absently. What had just happened? A daydream?

Caius shrugged. “If you are sure. Want some chocolate pudding?”

“Sure.”

He would think about it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Harry messed up and accidentally drew on a power he was not ready for...  
> But well, he's still a kid despite the way he usually acts. 
> 
> At least we got to see some Dark Lord - Harry interaction. *xD*

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Consumption will be on hold for a while.  
> My workload has increased due to COVID-19.


End file.
